


06. full she shines on the earth, silvery

by astrogeny



Series: if not, winter [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 21:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17630021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrogeny/pseuds/astrogeny
Summary: But Rinea laughs, genuine and unabashed, and this is what Clair treasures--the flashes of the woman beneath the layers and layers of demureness that Rinea holds so tightly around herself, like a bud that fears to bloom and let itself live.





	06. full she shines on the earth, silvery

**Author's Note:**

> what's up, gaymers....... it sure has been literal years since i wrote anything, haha. i'm trying to actually produce content again for femslash february, so here's my humble clairinea offering that's also part of that sappho prompts challenge i've been chipping away at for an eternity. i'm not super-happy with it, but at least i've written Something again? i really love the idea of a rinea lives au where she becomes something of an adviser/confidante/sister figure to alm, and then eventually has a slow-burn (no pun intended) Courtly Romance with clair. i also think it'd be interesting to see how they'd play off each other when rinea was raised in a very rigelian setting (the obsession with power after her father's fall from political grace and her sudden rise as berkut's fiancee, the glorification of strength, etc.) versus clair's very zofian upbringing (the excess, the emphasis on aesthetics with clive's 576756 villas, etc.).

"stars around the beautiful moon  
hide back their luminous form  
whenever all full she shines  
on the earth  
silvery"

 

"I must admit, I have been curious as to what you do in all your time away from court," Clair remarks. The day is warm for the middle of Flostym, but then again, the once-steady cycle of seasons means less now, on this godsless continent.

Rinea walks alongside Clair down a path, little more than a well-trodden track of dirt with sparse patches of grass. Trees that might once have been lush with foliage form a barren arch over their heads, doing little to block the early morning sun.

"I'm afraid you may want to temper your expectations," is Rinea's sheepish reply. "As I said at breakfast, it's only a little garden."

"Nonsense! I'm certain it's enchanting--no doubt it's the very picture of a fairy tale, with rose bushes, and fountains, and little birds, and nude statues--"

Rinea's hand flies to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with mortification.

"Nude...?"

"Well, perhaps not _completely_ nude," Clair amends quickly, "But in my dear Grandmama's time, they were quite in vogue. In fact, I believe they're due for a comeback." As Rinea protests that her garden would certainly never contain such things, or much of anything grand at all, Clair can't help but find it charming how scandalized she gets over the quaintest things, like artistic depictions of nudity or backless gowns.

They stroll a little longer, and Clair is about to ask just how far this garden is when they arrive at a tiny square of land, with nothing more than a knee-high wooden fence to set it apart from its surroundings. A few brave flowers have broken the ground, flashes of colorful petals winking in the morning sunlight, but the rest of the plot is nothing but lumpy dirt.

Either the surprise is written clearly on Clair's face, or Rinea reads it anyways, her gaze dropping down.

"It's not much now," she admits softly. "The flowers won't grow in a night, much as I wish they would, sometimes." She carefully steps over the makeshift fence, and Clair is quick to follow. The words rush out of her mouth, chasing Rinea's still-fragile self-esteem,

"It's lovely," she reassures firmly, "Indeed, it has all the makings of a very charming little garden." Clair crouches by the most robust-looking bunch of flowers. Their rounded petals are a soft, delicate yellow, and they give off a strong fragrance.

"Do you fancy peonies?" Rinea asks from over Clair's shoulder. Until that very moment, Clair hadn't the slightest clue what the flowers were called, but she resolves not to look like an insensitive fool in the face of something Rinea trusts her enough to share.

"Fancy them? Why, naturally, as I do with all flowers. I shall have you know, that as the queen bee of Zofian high society, I am well-acquainted with all manner of flowers!"

The sheer pretentiousness of it hits Clair before the words even finish leaving her mouth. Is everyone so foolish and self-conscious when in love? Has she bid farewell to her sense of reason forever, doomed to make foolish boasts and terrible plays on words in a bid to seem impressive? Her sympathy for bad flirts has grown far keener since she began courting Rinea, chiefly because she's become one herself.

But Rinea laughs, genuine and unabashed, and this is what Clair treasures--the flashes of the woman beneath the layers and layers of demureness that Rinea holds so tightly around herself, like a bud that fears to bloom and let itself live.

Rinea kneels at Clair's side in a graceful dip, without a second thought for her skirt, simple and meant to get dirty. She looks such a vision, even in plain working clothes, her hair pulled back into an almost austerely tight braid that lies along the curve of her spine. Clair suddenly regrets dressing in the blinding whites of her Falcon Knight's dress uniform--dashing as she might look now, the image is sure to be ruined by a pair of dirt-stained breeches.

"I like to spend my time here, when Alm has no need for whatever counsel I might give. In truth, I doubt I'm any more helpful here than I am at court, but there's something soothing in just working the ground, without having the energy to worry about anything else. Perhaps it's foolish, but I would like to see if I can grow something of use someday, instead of just pretty baubles."

"Is there no room in your garden for something that simply brings joy with its beauty?" Clair asks. She's careful not to take her usual stubborn, arch tone--Rinea will flee before it like one of the skittish cats that haunt Alm and Celica's apartments. "Perhaps it's simply my Zofian sentiment--or former Zofian sentiment, I suppose, we're all meant to be one people now--but I see no reason why you cannot grow things that are both useful and beautiful. After all, you yourself fit such a description."

Rinea flushes a rather egregious (yet somehow still delicate and charming) shade of red, which makes up for an inane platitude such as comparing a woman to a flower, Clair decides.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Rinea says, with a crinkle at the corners of her eyes that tugs at the strings of Clair's heart, "But helping me water and weed might."

When Clair hesitates a moment too long, Rinea adds, "I'll wash your breeches for you when we're through, if you'd like."

Clair allows herself a huff of mock indignation as she drops to her knees, letting the warm dirt grind into pristine fabric. It feels no different than the soil before the gods left it, but then again, what does she know?

"Very well, the lady shall bestow unto me now her gardening wisdom," she announces, and the rare confident smile on Rinea's lips is worth a thousand dirty uniforms.


End file.
